


And My Brain is Like an Orchestra, Playing On Insane

by getlostsquidward



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Ah this hurts, Angst, No Incest, No Pedophilia, cant believe I even have to tag those
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 03:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18112781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/getlostsquidward/pseuds/getlostsquidward
Summary: Five may be back from the apocalypse, but that doesn’t stop him from returning every night. Klaus knows the nightmares well, and won’t let him suffer it alone. Diego tries his best.





	And My Brain is Like an Orchestra, Playing On Insane

Klaus awoke to the sound of screams. It took him approximately 5 seconds to realize that, for once, they weren’t his own. Disoriented, he sat up and stretched. Glancing at the alarm clock next to his bed, he saw that it was 2:03 AM- meaning he’d gotten about 20 minutes of sleep. It was silent now. Too silent to tell who was screaming.

He slumped back into bed.

After what felt like seconds, he awoke again to the same screaming.

“ _ Jesus,” _ he muttered. 4:43 AM now. He stumbled out of bed and into the hallway. The screams had stopped, but this time there was a crash in the same direction, which he followed to Five’s bedroom. He shot a confused look towards Ben, who shrugged. 

“Five?” he asked, pushing open the door. Five stood next to his bed, cleaning pieces of a vase off his floor. He froze at the sight of Klaus, then resumed a second later. 

“What do you want?” Five asked.

Klaus glanced at Ben, who said nothing. “Well,” he said, taking a step forward, “I heard screams and- Five! Christ!”

Five had squeezed a part of the vase too tightly- it had snapped and cut his hand. 

”Don’t!” Five yelled as Klaus moved to help, “Don’t touch me!”

“I’m only trying to-” Klaus started. 

“Just get out!”  Five snapped. “Get out!”

Klaus was startled, and even more unsure of what to do. He wasn’t qualified to deal with this. Stunned, he found himself leaving to Five’s door slammed in his face.

“That went well,” he muttered to  himself, rubbing his forehead. Ben rolled his eyes.

Klaus couldn't fall back asleep. The screams, Five’s bleeding hand, the door slamming in his face- they all echoed around his mind, drowning out any thoughts of sleep. Around six, he decided to give up trying to get sleep and instead make breakfast. Luther was the first up after him and eyed Klaus’s pathetic attempt at waffles with a confused gaze. 

“Irresistible, I know,” Klaus said, spooning batter into the waffle maker. 

“What are you doing?” Luther asked him. 

“What, I can’t make breakfast?” Klaus asked defensively. Luther gave Klaus a suspicious glance but decided to leave him alone. Allison was next. 

“Morning Klaus,” she greeted. “What are you… making?”

“Waffles!” Klaus replied. 

“Smells great!” she lied. Klaus smiled at her. 

“I’ll save you a plate,” he told her, nudging her shoulder.

“I actually have to go, but thanks anyway,” she said, giving a wave. He waved back, the spatula in his hand flicking bits of batter on the floor.

“Think he’ll show up soon?”  Klaus asked Ben, who was leaning against the counter. 

“You used salt,” Ben replied.

“What?” Klaus asked. 

“You used salt instead of sugar. In the waffles,” Ben said, pointing at the batter. Klaus grabbed the bowl and ran his finger through it, then stuck it through his mouth. 

“Wow!” he said, grimacing. Ben gave him a pointed look. 

“What? It just needs syrup! Sweet and salty!”

Ben shook his head. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Klaus told him, flipping the waffles off the maker and onto a plate. 

“Knowing Five, he’ll either come down here and act as though nothing happened or sneak out the back,” Ben said. Klaus sighed, putting more batter into the machine.

“Speak of the Devil,” Ben said, gesturing towards the figure coming down the stairs.

“Morning, Five!” Klaus yelled. 

“Subtle,” Ben scoffed.

“What the hell is that smell?” Five asked, sniffing the air. 

“Breakfast!” Klaus said brightly. 

Five grabbed the coffee pot and poured himself a cup, then settled down at the table. Klaus set a plate of waffles in front of him, eyeing Five’s bandaged hand. Five, noticing, shifted his hand under the table, grabbing the fork with his other hand. 

“Five, don’t!” Luther yelled dramatically. “You don’t know what’s in there!”

“Come on! It’s just a little salt-” Klaus pouted.

“I don’t care how old he is, he’s not going to get high-” Luther started, then trailed off when he saw the look on Klaus’s face. 

“Wait one moment,” Klaus started, his voice shaking with laughter. “Wait one moment!”

Klaus drew his hands over his grinning mouth, unable to contain his sheer delight at this situation. “Luther… do you think I… put drugs in the waffles?”

Luther looked at the waffles, then back at Klaus. “I…”

Five ignored Luther and grabbed the syrup, muttering insults under his breath. Both Klaus and Luther watched as he took a bite. 

“God,” Five said, coughing, “Ever heard of sugar?” 

Klaus gave Luther a pointed look. “No drugs.”

Five piled more syrup on, then continued eating. Grabbing a book off the counter, Luther stormed upstairs.

“You won’t understand that!” Five yelled at his retreating figure. Luther ignored him. 

“What’d he grab?” Klaus asked. 

“An advanced mathematics textbook,” Five replied.

“Oh my word,” Klaus giggled. “He’ll have fun with that.”

“Something’s burning,” Five said pointedly.

Klaus suddenly remembered his waffles. 

“Oh  _ shit, _ ” he said, running towards the kitchen. 

As he dumped the steaming black mess into the trash, Diego came running down. “What’d you burn?”

“Waffles,” Klaus said sadly. “There’s another plate on the counter.”

Diego internally debated for a second, then grabbed the waffles, sitting down next to Five. “What happened to your hand?” he asked, nodding to Five’s bandages. 

“Nothing,” Five responded, stabbing his waffle with sudden intensity. Diego shrugged, then stuck a bite of waffle into his mouth. Within 3 seconds, he was at the sink, retching. 

“God!” he exclaimed between rinsing his mouth out, “What the hell did you put in those?”

Klaus smiled. “I may have mixed up the sugar and salt while I was making them,” he said.

“That explains the taste,” Five said, sticking another bite into his mouth. Diego looked at Five incredulously.

“How the hell can you eat that?” he asked. Five shrugged. “Still tastes better than cockroaches.”

He said it so casually that it almost slipped unnoticed.  _ Almost.  _

“Five, why the  _ fuck _ have you eaten cockroaches?” Diego asked.

“I second that question,” Klaus earnestly replied.

Five gave them an exhausted look. “The apocalypse. You eat what you can.”

“Next time you give him something to eat, make sure it’s good,” Ben scolded Klaus. 

“I will, I will!” Klaus replied. 

“What?” Diego asked. 

“Nothing, nothing,” Klaus said, returning to the kitchen.

“Alright, I’m leaving,” Diego announced. 

“Bye,” Klaus said distractedly, tossing dirty dishes into the sink.

When Klaus looked back, Five was gone.

  
  


***

 

“Let’s hope for food, Delores,” Five said, painstakingly dragging the wagon along behind him. “Or new clothes. Or water.” He stopped at the remains of a house, panting with effort. “God, I hope there’s water.”

It had been a week since he’d arrived here, in this empty, desolate place. He was still wearing his uniform, a fact that he hated, but there were no other options to be found. He left the wagon in front, then headed into the crumbled structure. When he’d glanced at it yesterday, it had seen promising. Five took two cautious steps in when he suddenly froze.

The apocalypse stank. The smell of burned wood and metals never left- they coated everything. But even amongst the constant stench, there was no mistaking the smell of death.

All of a sudden, Five was over the edge. What little food was in his stomach was coming out, the acidity burning his throat. He was on his knees, trembling as his body convulsed again and again until there was nothing left.

Coughing, he wiped his mouth. He was shaking violently, but he forced himself to get up. He couldn’t handle seeing another rotting body, not today. Stumbling back to the wagon, he collapsed on the ground. 

He allowed himself two minutes. Two minutes to recompose himself and get back up. He took heavy breaths, trying to slow his racing pulse. When his two minutes- or at least his closest estimate- were over, he stood and exhaustedly grabbed the wagon, continuing on his path.

He passed three more houses when he came across a building that looked somewhat intact. Parts of the remains were still smoldering, and he reminded himself to be careful inside. He was more cautious entering this time, but the house seemed to be empty of bodies. He sighed in relief, then grabbed the stick from his wagon and poked through the rubble. He’d learned not to dig through remains with his hands- there were too many sharp edges. 

He was lucky. Some canned food, a bottle of aspirin and  _ water.  _ He carried the cans back to the wagon and went back for the water. Four salvageable bottles, which made him less worried for the next few days. As he knelt to pick them up, something caught his eye- a piece of paper next to the bottles. Could it tell how the apocalypse had started? He leaned forward to grab it, but misjudged his balance and set his hand on the ground to catch himself from falling.

It took Five two seconds to realize his mistake. 

His pain reflexes worked immediately, pulling his hand away, but it was too late, he realized- he’d set his palm on a hot piece of metal. He watched in horror as the burned skin started to turn grey. “Shit,” he exclaimed, standing up. It was beginning to blister. “Shit!” 

He was panicking. He had no ice, no experience with burns, and he was completely alone. “Shit!” he yelled again, not knowing what else to do. 

Regaining his sense, he grabbed a bottle of water and took it back to the wagon. He was trembling even worse than before, the pain kicking in. He couldn’t hold still, his body  _ had  _ to move,  _ had  _ to do something other than just sit in agony. He shook his hand, trying to distract his mind from some of the pain, but it did nothing. 

Taking a bowl from the wagon, he set it in front of him and tried to open the bottle of water.  _ Of course,  _ he’d burned his dominant hand. It was nearly impossible to open the bottle with one hand. Finally, he used his thighs to grip the bottle and hold it while he turned the cap. 

The pain was  _ excruciating  _ now _ \-  _ it was taking all his willpower not to scream. Shakily, he poured water into the bowl and stuck his hand in. The water was lukewarm but the relief was instant. Sighing, he leaned back against the wagon. 

But now there was the problem of healing. When the blisters broke, his hand would be raw and susceptible to infection. The apocalypse was not what you’d call clean, and he had no gauze or medications to keep his wound from being vulnerable.

He wanted Mom. 

“What do I do?” he asked no one in particular. “What the hell do I do?!”

 

***

 

Five came out of his nightmare screaming. They always started the same. Always the  _ fucking  _ same. 

There was the air. The hot, ashy air he could never forget. Breathing it in was like inhaling fire- it burned. His body had done its best to expel it. The first week he was there, he’d been forced to stop constantly, the exertion of finding supplies leaving him retching- trying to eject the toxins he was inhaling.  He’d adapted, eventually, but when his sleep took him back, the thick, labored breaths he was forced to take never failed to panic him.

Sometimes the nightmares were mixed with memories, sometimes they involved him going back, but they were always,  _ always  _ of the apocalypse. Five looked down at his bandaged hand and reminded himself that it had been cut and not burned, the burns had been decades ago, he was all right, he was safe.

Sighing, he sat up and turned on the lamp.

“Jesus!” he exclaimed, startled by Klaus’s sleeping figure. Klaus stirred and rubbed his eyes.

“Oh, hey brother!” he said sleepily.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Five asked.

Klaus sat up. “Let’s have a talk.”


End file.
